


Show Me

by Infie



Series: Five Times Ollie Got Laid, One Time Oliver Made Love [6]
Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, First Time
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-13
Updated: 2015-04-13
Packaged: 2018-03-22 16:10:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3735208
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Infie/pseuds/Infie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Oliver placed Felicity's hand against his chest, pressed it hard to his heart. “I think this belongs to you.”<br/>(Can be read standalone without missing anything)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Show Me

* * *

He couldn’t believe how neatly her hand fit in his, even as she followed him reluctantly through the hallway to the loft door. Every tiny groove in her touch felt like it was tracing electric shocks, burning the sensation of her fingers into his hand. He’d felt it before, of course, but never quite like this. 

Because before, he’d never really let himself _feel_. But now, he couldn’t stop. 

“You aren’t even listening to me,” she declared furiously. 

“Hmmm,” he replied noncommittally, reaching for his keys with his free hand. 

“Oliver! You can’t just interrupt my date, ask me to leave with you, and take me somewhere without at least giving me a reason!” 

He turned the key in the lock and opened the door, leading her inside and closing it softly behind them. He let go of her hand, toed off his shoes and walked over to the kitchen, pulling a bottle of red wine from the small rack in the island. He looked up when he realised she’d stopped talking. 

Felicity was looking around her with wide eyes. “Oliver? Where the hell are we?” 

He answered her easily, pouring her a glass. “This is my place. Mine and Thea’s.” 

Her mouth gaped and she shot him a confused glance before shaking her head in befuddlement. “What…? Why...? ugh.” She turned in a small circle, taking it all in. “This is a really, really impressive apartment.” 

“Thea chose it.” He brought her the wine and helped her take off her coat. Every brush of his fingers against her neck, her arm, her back was exquisite torture. He tossed her coat over the back of the couch and took her hand again, leading her to his room. 

Reflexively she took a sip of the wine and allowed herself to be towed along behind him. “Wow, that’s good.” Another sip and she was humming appreciatively. He opened the door to his room and ushered her inside. 

“Welcome,” he said, waving a hand at the only space he had left that he could call his own. Although, since Thea owned the apartment and had bought it with Malcolm’s money, he supposed that doing so was still sophistry at best and outright self-delusion at worst. 

Felicity tugged her hand free and stepped over to the wooden desk that took up the corner furthest from the door. She took another drink of the wine before setting the glass down on the polished wood surface with a decisive click. When she turned back towards him her face was grim. 

“Ok, Oliver, I’ve played along…” When he snorted, she amended, “… not without complaint, I admit, but no more ignoring me or messing around.” 

He started languidly undoing the buttons of his dress shirt. 

The look on Felicity’s face was _priceless_ and he barely managed to fight back the wicked grin that wanted to spread across his lips. He knew his mouth twitched because she flushed deeply before her eyes narrowed. 

"I _said_ , no more messing around.” She swallowed audibly as he reached the end of the buttons and pulled on the shirt so it would just hang loose, showing a strip of torso that felt a little chilled in the stream of the air conditioning. “I did not say, ‘strip’.” Her eyes widened in horror. “I didn’t say ‘strip’, did I? Cause I don’t remember thinking ‘strip’, at least not this time, and I can’t imagine that you’d suddenly start following my random commands, especially not the mental ones, cause if you were going to do _that_ you’d probably have started taking off all your clothes right after ‘Hi, I’m Oliver Queen,’ and while that would have been amazing it doesn’t really explain all of this,” she waved her hand wildly at him, “right now. In front of me. Partially shirtless. _Again_.” 

The grin burst free, he couldn’t help it. 

She brought herself back under control with closed eyes and a visible effort. “Oliver,” she finally said, meeting his gaze with a steady candor no one else had ever given him. “Why did you bring me here?” 

His grin fled. Nervousness made his mouth dry and he licked his lips. “Felicity,” he said softly. God, he loved how her name tasted in his mouth. Like honesty, and faith, and love all consolidated into four syllables that made his heart stutter just a little every time he said them. Like happiness made manifest in a word. “Felicity,” he repeated, “I have something here for you. Something that’s yours.” 

Her brow furrowed and she looked around in puzzlement. “You do?” 

He nodded and bit his lip. “I do.” He crossed the room to her, took her hand in his. He took a deep breath, tilted his head and looked her straight in the eyes, offering her the same direct honesty as she’d always shown him. He forced himself to speak through the tightness in his throat. “ _Me._ ” He placed her hand against his chest, pressed it hard to his heart. “I think this belongs to you.” 

She was shocked, whether by his words or his gesture or his sincerity or all of the above, and she took an involuntary step backwards. He followed automatically, holding her in place so that she could feel his heart thundering in his chest. She caught herself before she moved away again and instead took back the space between them, confronting him as resolutely as ever. God, she was so goddamned _brave_ , facing everything that lay between them with such steadfast courage that it humbled him. He knew she was terrified, but she was defiant against it every time. 

His hero. 

Her chin trembled but she squared her shoulders and asked, “Oliver?” 

“When I saw you tonight,” he started slowly, trying to control the flow of … everything that was trying to pour out of him. “You look beautiful. You were with your date…” 

“Michael,” she interrupted. 

“Hmmm. You were with him, and Felicity, it just… hurt. He reached over and touched your hand, and the way that felt…” He closed his eyes and pressed her hand closer to the memory of that ache. “I think I heard an actual snap in my chest.” 

“You’re doing this because you were jealous of my date?” 

He could see the distance growing in her eyes, clutched her hand tighter. “No!” he told her hastily, “no, that’s not it. I mean, I _was_ jealous, but this …” He took another deep breath and reached for whatever calm he could scrape together. He managed to slow his heart, regain some semblance of self-restraint. He spoke softly, “Ok. I’m going to start again, and I want you to listen to me, ok? I’m not great at this, so be patient with me? Let me finish?” 

He could tell she wasn’t convinced, but she nodded and left her hand on his chest. Her touch felt like it was branding him with her heat. He never wanted it to move. 

Gently, he said, “Before you, I was never jealous. Not of Laurel, not of Tommy, not of anyone. But with you, it’s different. Everything is different. I’m different. I’m not … I’m not jealous because I think you’re mine. I’m jealous because _I’m yours_ , because I need to _be yours_. It’s not that I don’t want to share… Not _just_ that I don’t want to share you,” he amended, compelled by the need to be completely truthful. “I don’t want _you_ to share _me_.” With each word, he felt himself relax further into it, into that serenity that only ever came when he was being totally honest, with her. God, she was everything to him. 

“I hate watching you touch other men because it should be me under your hands. It should be _us._ Together.” 

He watched her give a long, slow blink, and felt the fine tremors in her fingers still held so firmly against his chest. He swallowed hard. He wanted so badly, such contradictory things. Wanted to patch up those crumbled walls inside and protect himself within them, wanted to tear them the rest of the way down and salt the earth where they’d been built so that nothing could ever be built there again. Wanted her to believe him, wanted her to turn her back and walk away and leave the dangers of this life far behind. He wanted to go. 

He _needed_ to stay. 

All of those opposing desires were irrelevant now, and he knew it; put them all aside forever. He’d thought he had a choice to make, but he hadn’t. There never had been, despite everything he’d told himself and all the things he’d told her. He’d been so wrong. 

The choice was already made long ago, and for him it was no choice at all. 

The only thing left was Felicity. Who was staring at him with stunned eyes, gaping mouth and trembling hands, and it was all he could do to keep his distance, to finish. 

“Relationships…” He stopped, rolled his lips between his teeth to consider what he was about to say; elected to go with bluntness, “Sex, actually. Sex was about taking, or, or marking, like it would… I don’t know how to describe it. Like by possessing some part of them for a while, I would be real. Sex was a way to feel real, and I chased that feeling. I used drugs, and alcohol, and charm, and money, and biology, and psychology, and any other bell, whistles or trick I could to get it.” He couldn’t help the self-loathing that crept into his voice, and Felicity reached for his forearm with her free hand, squeezing it comfortingly. It made his eyes sting. When he continued, his voice was hoarse. 

“Felicity, I don’t want to take anything from you. I want to _give_ to you. I want to give everything to you, until there’s nothing left that’s just me, that isn’t us. I don’t want to use bells or whistles, because I need this to be real. Just… me. I want you to _see_ me. Be with me. _Take_ me. I want you to take _me_ , Felicity…” He ran out of breath before he ran out of things to say, and realized with a kind of lightheaded wonder that he’d gotten out all the important parts. Anything else would just be prolonging the process. He could have stopped with that very first ‘me’ and she still would have had the gist. It frightened him, how much he wanted to share all the words with her, all of the emotions. His past, his present. 

Most terrifying of all, his future. 

Instead, he bit back the avalanche of words, and went for broke. 

“Do you understand?” 

She blinked at him again, confusion clouding those beautiful eyes that had haunted his dreams for two years, but she had always thought faster than anyone else he knew and this time was no exception. He watched the expressions flit across her face as she went back through what he’d said, and he could almost read the words as she thought them. Anger: _You can’t do this to me again, Oliver_ ; hope: _I believe in you_ , soul deep fear: _How can I trust that this time you mean it_ ; uncertainty: _Maybe you just think you mean this, but you’ll realise you don’t_ , anger again: _Damn you for making me feel this way._ He only noticed he’d been holding his breath when spots started to swim in front of his eyes, but he couldn’t seem to force himself to breathe. 

Her gaze abruptly went opaque, hiding her thoughts from him. He bit his lip, suddenly afraid of which response she’d settled on. Her eyes went to his mouth and she pursed her lips in thought. Somehow he managed to wait, although every instinct was screaming at him to say something, anything to tip the scales. 

She lifted her eyes back to his and his heart clenched at the resolve he saw there. Her fingers twitched against his chest at the sudden thud of his heartbeat against her palm. She stepped right up against him, nose to nose, so much stronger than he ever was in facing her fear. He blinked, waiting for her to yell. Instead, she discarded all of it, all the detritus of their past, all the legacy of fear and pain, all the times he’d hurt her by pulling away, with a recklessness that he couldn’t fathom. 

“Show me,” she said huskily. 

He shuddered at the heat in her voice and lifted visibly shaking hands to cup her face, taking a moment to just drink her in. She met his gaze steadily, fearlessly, and with just the slightest hint of humour. Her skin felt like heated silk under his fingertips and a lock of her hair spilled over his wrist, curling under it as if trying to hold him captive. It tickled, and it made him smile. She beamed back at him, luminous, and he fit his mouth over hers with a muffled groan. 

She met him eagerly. Her lips parted and her tongue teased against his, all slick warm heat, tasting of wine and desire and a flavour that was all Felicity. Her arms slid around his torso, hands leaving trails of heat on his bare skin that felt like they were branding him everywhere they touched. She cuddled close, pressing her breasts against his chest. 

His fingers tightened around her head, lifting her higher. All new warring impulses rocketed through him; desire to rip off her dress and just bury himself in her on the bed; desire to just haul up her skirt and drive into her against the wall; desire to turn her and bend her over the chair. God, everything he’d ever done, in every way he’d ever experienced or seen or even fucking heard of. He wanted to do it all at once, with her, _right now_. 

Instead, he gentled the kiss and pulled back. “You taste wonderful,” he told her softly, brushing his mouth against hers again. “You’re beautiful. You’re everything I could ever want. I can’t…” His breath caught in his throat as it tightened unexpectedly, cutting him off. He closed his eyes against everything he felt. “I can’t believe you’re here.” 

“I’m here,” she said, kissing his chest over his heart, smiling as it thudded in response. “Look at me.” 

He opened his eyes immediately, looking down at her. He didn’t know what expression was on his face but it made her smile at him with gentle eyes. 

“I see you, Oliver,” she said. 

His breath hitched again, and her hands stroked down his back as if to calm him. “What do _you_ want?” he asked, for what was probably the first time in his life. “I want to give it to you. Anything.” 

He saw the flash of mischief cross her face and knew she’d thought of all sorts of responses that would have lightened the mood, but she discarded them all just as fast. The speed of her mind was one of the sexiest things about her, he thought with a distant kind of awe. She stepped back from him with visible reluctance, setting another quick kiss against his heart before removing her hands. “I see you, Oliver,” she repeated, not quite steadily, reading him as easily as ever. “Now I want you to show me the rest. Show me everything.” She licked her lips and considered her words carefully. “Show me how you want to be, with me.” 

He sucked in a breath and gave the tiny headshake he always seemed to use with her. “I love you,” he said sincerely. 

“Words, Oliver,” she told him, but with a smile that warmed him to his toes. 

“The words are important,” he declared softly, moving around the room to turn off the unnecessary lights. He lit the small forest of candles Thea had put on the window sill after the last power outage, setting the lighter to each wick with precision. When the final one was flickering with gentle light he reached up and turned off the final switch, plunging them into semi-darkness. He set the lighter down and turned to face her. The candlelight glinted gold off her hair and darkened her eyes, glowed against her skin. “You taught me that, Felicity.” 

"I don’t know how,” she murmured, “Most people just want me to shut up.” 

“By giving them to me,” he told her firmly, ignoring the self-deprecation in her voice. She looked startled, and touched. “Every time I needed them. Now I want to give them to you.” 

“Actions speak louder. You asked me what I want. I want you to show me,” she said again. She walked backwards until her calves hit the bed and then she sat, her eyes never leaving him. She was intent on him, as absorbed as if she were unravelling some complex algorithm. 

It made him shiver, made his heart beat harder, made his blood run faster. 

It stole his breath and made him burn. 

He licked his lips and brought his hands to the cuffs of his shirt, releasing the cufflinks with quick, sure twists of his fingers that Felicity watched avidly. He set them aside on his dresser and grasped the edges of his shirt, sliding it off his shoulders and down his arms with a deliberately slow glide that had her throat working and her breath quickening. He threw the shirt onto the top of the bed. 

God, he was glad that he already knew how much she appreciated his body; that she had always looked past the scars to the man beneath. With every movement he already felt as if he were stripping away the remnants of his walls along with his clothes. As if he had no masks left. It was terrifying. 

Under Felicity’s keen gaze, it felt glorious. 

His hands dropped to his waistband and she reflexively licked her lips, making him smile even as he wanted to replace her tongue with his own. The dress slacks fell to the ground and he stepped out of them. His socks were next, then his watch. He hesitated briefly over the underwear, but her calm regard steadied him and he skimmed them down too. He swore he could _feel_ the path of her gaze as she looked him over unhurriedly. She was blushing, the flush running down her chest and into the bodice of her dress. Her throat bobbed as she swallowed hard, again. 

He spread his hands, waiting. 

She rose to her feet, tall in her high heels and still so much smaller than him. One hand reached out to trace the scar under his ribs, courtesy of Wintergreen. He reached out to touch her face and she kissed his palm softly before circling around his right, dropping kisses on his shoulder, his bicep, his back. When she reached his dragon she stroked its nose gently with a finger, as if petting it soothingly and he huffed out a little laugh. 

God, he loved her so much. 

“Are you going to give it a name?” he whispered. 

“I’m sure he already has one,” she replied as she kissed the skin over his shoulder blade, sending little zings of pleasure down his back and legs. “Probably something profound, like ‘dragon tattoo guy’.” 

“Probably.” He sought out her face as she finished her turn and came back around to face him, her chin tilted up playfully. “But he’s yours now. You can name him anything you want.” 

She caught her breath at the intensity of his words. “Now me,” she said intently, breathlessly. “I want you to see me too, Oliver.” 

“I do,” he whispered hoarsely. He reached for her with trembling hands and turned her to face away. He swept the soft golden hair to the side to bare the back of her neck and the top of her zipper. It made his mouth water and he gave in just enough to give her nape a soft open-mouthed kiss before blowing a puff of air across the wet skin. She smelled _fantastic_ , all warm clean skin, light Chantilly perfume and just the slightest tinge of ozone. She gasped and gave a shudder, swaying unsteadily. He nosed under her ear and then took the tab of the zipper between his fingers, sliding it down languidly and following the path with his tongue until he was kneeling behind her. He slipped his fingers back up her spine, hooking under the open edges of the dress and sliding it off her shoulders. Her skin was luminous in the candlelight, so much paler than his tanned fingers that he stopped just to appreciate the play of light and dark. 

Felicity gave a little shimmy and her dress fell, catching briefly at her hips before slithering the rest of the way to puddle over his thighs. He had a second to process that the bra was built in before she turned between his knees and he was left looking up her body. 

He groaned at the sight of her perfect bare breasts above him, burying his face against her abdomen to try and keep some semblance of control. Even so, his hands wrapped around the backs of her thighs, slipping up over her waist and back with shaking fingers and his mouth was kissing her stomach on its own volition. The skin against his arms and chest, slick with her nylon hose, was almost more than he could stand. She tasted so clean, with just the faintest hint of citrus. She smelled like home. 

She raked her hands into his hair, hugging him close before slipping her fingertips under his jaw to lift his chin. He kept his eyes closed, and he felt her stomach flex under his chin as she sighed. Her thumbs stroked over his cheekbones, his eyebrows, his cheeks before one settled firmly against his lips. Automatically he opened his mouth and sucked it inside. Her knees buckled and she wobbled when he ran his tongue over the pad. 

“Keep going,” she urged huskily, nudging his knee with her toes meaningfully. As she shifted, the warm scent of her arousal hit him like a hammer blow. 

“You smell so good, Felicity,” he told her when he could manage to speak. He leaned his forehead against her navel and slipped his hands to her ankle, fumbling at the clasp of her high heel. It finally gave and he set it aside, setting to work on the other. His lungs were working like a bellows, trying to draw in more and more of her intoxicating smell. It was making him lightheaded. He ran his hands back up her legs and set his thumbs into the waistband of her pantyhose to slip them down her thighs, hooking his fingers into her panties on the way to take them along. A soft bed of dark curls was revealed and he rubbed his cheek against her mound before kissing them softly. She stepped out of the hose and panties, giving him a glimpse of her soaking cleft. He kissed her again, darting out his tongue for an exploratory lick. 

Her flavour burst over his tongue, fulfilling all the promise of the scent that had him so captivated moments before. He grunted with the jolt of lust. Her taste was indescribable and he was flooded with an overwhelming need for more. He lifted one leg over his shoulder and just pinned her in place against him with one arm banded across her bottom and the other hand gripping the thigh over his shoulder like a lifeline. He dove in, his mouth latching over her and his tongue sweeping her cleft, chasing as much of her taste as he could get. He lost himself in the flavour, in her soft cries, in his own muffled groans. 

“Oliver.” A tug on his ear got his attention and made him realise it probably wasn’t the first time she’d called his name. Her legs were quivering and he could feel her hands shaking as they cupped his head. Rebelliously he gave another couple of nibbles before looking up at her. 

It took her three tries to calm the quaking in her legs enough to pull her thigh from his shoulder, and he took advantage of each attempt to lick her again. Finally he helped, steadying her with hands on her hips until she could stand. “I could do that for hours and still want more,” he murmured, tracing a finger through her curls and then sucking her flavour off of it. She gave an inarticulate moan at the sight so he did it again before regaining his feet to stand in front of her. 

She slipped her arms around his neck and went to her tiptoes to kiss him fiercely. “You taste good with me on you,” she told him before pulling his head down again. Her tongue teased at his and his arms closed around her, lifting her off her feet to get her closer. She parted her legs automatically and the brush of her curls against his thighs had his knees weakening. She broke the kiss with a needy groan. “Bed,” she said imperiously and he gave a soft laugh of delight, setting her back on her feet. “Lie down,” she continued, stepping to the side and giving him a little push towards the bed. “Let me see you.” 

He moved to the bed and lay down on his back. She knelt beside him and nudged him in the ribs, smiling when he flinched. “Turn over?” 

He turned carefully onto his stomach, stretching his back and then pillowing his head on his arms. She shifted to start running her hands over his shoulders and back, tracing the curves of muscle with tender fingers and leaving trails of fire in her wake. He was distantly surprised that she didn’t follow the lines of any of his scars, instead shadowing the natural rise and fall of skin and muscle over bone. She patted his dragon again fondly and stroked her hands down his spine all the way to his ass, which she gave an appreciative squeeze. He moaned and pushed up into her hands and she leaned over him to place her lips at the back of his neck. She nipped lightly and moved to the junction of neck and shoulder, opening her mouth and sucking hard on the pulse she found there. 

He shuddered and his hips stuttered, his fingers clenching into the pillow as the deep draw of her mouth went straight to his cock. She released him and began kissing down his back, licking and nuzzling. Her hands continued to explore, stroking over his ribs and ass. Every touch sensitized him further, like little electrical pulses ricocheting around his bloodstream to settle in his cock. She kissed the base of his spine and ran her fingers down his legs. 

“You’re so beautiful, Oliver.” He thought he heard tears in her voice, and it tugged at his heart. “Turn over, please?” 

He rolled onto his back, arms already reaching for her as she collapsed eagerly onto his chest to kiss him passionately before pushing herself back upright. Her thigh pressed into his ribs from knee to hip and he pressed his hand to her leg, fingers feathering against the crease of her thigh. She moaned and fell forward to press her forehead against his chest, and he found himself stroking her hair reverently. 

“I’m not done learning you,” she muttered, aggrieved, and reluctantly he pulled his hands away, pressing them against the headboard until his knuckles hurt. 

“Go ahead,” he said breathlessly. “I’m all yours.” 

She kissed him, and the sensation of her breasts sliding against his chest made his arms quake and ripped a groan from his throat. At her concerned look, he said “Jesus Christ, don’t stop. I’m loving this. Anything you want, take it. Anyth…” She cut him off by the simple expedient of biting his lower lip and sucking it into her mouth to tease with her tongue. Her fingers slid over his throat and down his chest, sliding over his pecs and tweaking his nipples. He jerked at the electric jolt that raced along his nerves and arched his back, begging wordlessly for more. 

She rubbed a thumb over his Bratva tattoo and licked over his diaphragm, tracing the delicate lines of the Chinese tattoo on his abs with her tongue. “I have wanted to do this forever,” she declared dreamily and nibbled her way over each one. Breathy little moans left her each time his stomach contracted under her mouth. He lifted his head to watch as she lovingly tongued each ridge, dipping into his navel and sucking the skin between her teeth to give it gentle squeezes. She glided a hand up his inner thigh to cup his balls softly before gathering the base of his cock in her hand and lifting it to give her access to the ridge of muscle marking the edge of his hip. Her eyes were closed and she looked transported, as if she were memorizing his taste and texture. 

He wanted to touch so badly. 

She lifted her head and gave him a wicked grin as she moved to kneel between his legs. He had an instant to brace and she was sliding her lips over his cock, swirling her tongue around and pressing it hard to the little ridge just under the head. A burst of sensation whited out his vision and he slammed his head into the pillow, forcing his hands to stay against the headboard through sheer willpower. 

“Felicity!” 

She pulled back to lick her lips and went down on him again, taking him to the back of her throat and sucking hard. Her mouth was fantastic; soft wet heat and the tight ring of her lips; the incredible vibrations as she hummed little moans; the electric pull of suction and the ripple of her tongue as she swallowed around him. His hips rolled with the rhythm she set, each stroke making the ends of her hair move against his thighs and abs. The tickling was small against the tidal wave of sensation she was giving him with her mouth, but he focused on it hard to try and stave off the orgasm he could feel approaching. 

“I’m not going to last,” he gritted out. 

He wasn’t sure whether he was desperately glad or desperately frustrated when she immediately stopped, pulling off him with a soft pop, but he was absolutely positive that desperation was in there either way. She dropped a kiss on his shaft and he whimpered. 

“Condom?” she asked breathlessly, nipping at the ridge of his ribs with her teeth. 

He looked down at her and bit his lip. 

“Ah,” she said, “You don’t want one.” 

“I don’t want anything between us,” he whispered, keeping his eyes on hers against the impulse to close them and hide. “I want it to be just me.” He felt his eyes sting and saw hers well up in response. 

She prowled up his body on her hands and knees like a sleek cat, slinging her leg over his hips to straddle him. He felt every brush of her thighs and breasts like a brand against his supersensitive skin. She licked a stripe up his neck, making him arch underneath her to get closer. She ground down against his abs and rocked a little instinctively, and he thought his head was going to explode with wanting when he felt her wetness press down against the ridge of his cock. 

She bit his chin, rubbing her teeth against his stubble, and he smiled. “Me too,” she whispered. “I want it to be just us, Oliver. I want to feel everything, with nothing between us. I want to be with you, just you.” The words were making his stomach clench with need. “I want to _take you_ , Oliver. Just like you asked me to.” 

The breath that left him was entirely too close to a sob for his comfort, but Felicity just cupped his cheek in her hand and kissed him, sucking at his lip and giving it a squeeze between her teeth. He couldn’t help it anymore; he closed his eyes and just arched into her. He was so hard that he was sure he’d have been aching if she wasn’t rubbing over him and making the rest of him feel so goddamned good. She leaned back a little, tracing the lines of his neck and collarbone with her tongue, stopping to suck whenever she felt him jolt. One hand slipped behind her leg to grasp his cock firmly, catching him by surprise and wringing a strangled gasp from his throat. 

She pushed upright with her free hand on his chest, covering his heart. The fingers circling him gave him a squeeze before she lifted him into position, rolling her hips in a long sensual movement that rubbed his head through her incredibly slick cleft. Her head lolled on her shoulders before she brought her attention back to his face with a visible effort. 

“Please,” he blurted out. 

She swallowed hard and rocked her hips again. His eyes fluttered closed as the head of his cock glided through her folds. She dug her nails into his chest in a clear demand and he forced his lids open again, meeting her hot gaze with his own. Her cheekbones were flushed with hectic colour and she was biting her lip tightly. In the candlelight she looked like the avatar of some pagan goddess. 

“Please,” he repeated desperately. “Felicity, take me, please.” 

“Yes,” she told him gently, positioning him carefully at her entrance before moving to cup his face in her hands. She stared into his eyes steadily, and he’d never felt in his entire life as naked as he did in that instant. She pushed back and he watched her face avidly as she claimed him with her body. Her internal walls were all tight, wet, silken heat rippling around him and he felt himself bottom out just before she came to rest on the cradle of his hips. 

He swore his heart stopped in his chest at the look in her eyes. 

She shivered a full-body ripple that started at the top of her head and wavered down through her torso and thighs to end at her feet. “Oh my god,” she said reverently as her body did it again. “ _Oliver_. You’re perfect.” This time the shudder made her walls quiver around him and his hips jerked up in reaction. She sat up fully and her head fell back, grinding down. 

“Beautiful,” he whispered in awe, staring at the thrust of her breasts above him. 

“Touch me,” she demanded breathily in response. “Show me.” 

He wrenched his hands free of the headboard and sat up in a single fluid motion, wrapping his arms around her and crushing her close. He buried face in her hair, his nose in her neck, and set his teeth against the pulse thundering in her throat. His hands gripped her tightly and he held her tightly as he thrust up hard. She kissed his neck and then threw her head back, guiding his mouth to her breast. He latched on immediately, drawing the taut nipple into his mouth and suckling hard. It drew a sharp cry from her throat and a fresh burst of heat and wetness around his cock, and so he did it again, timing the draws on her breast with the thrusts into her willing body. Their pace became frantic and he completely lost himself in the movement, thrust and withdrawal. They were both so close, he could feel the coil tightening in his groin, could feel the increasing clench of her walls around him. 

“Wait, wait.” She stilled her hips and leaned back in his arms, her hands framing his face and forcing him to lift his head from her breast. 

“I don’t think I can,” he said, desperately reaching for control and missing. 

She kissed him ferociously and then pulled back to look at him. Her eyes were wild with need. “I want to see you,” she said fiercely. “I want you to see me. Watch.” She took his mouth, her lips frantic and her breath ragged as she started to rock her hips against his again, slower this time. “Oliver. I’m so close. I want to come for you.” 

He nodded mindlessly, not even sure what he was agreeing to, just knowing that if it was something she wanted he’d give it to her. 

“Deeper,” she said, and he spread his knees to give her more space to grind down. He felt himself bottom out, saw the tiny flinch in her eyes that said it hurt. Immediately he lifted her up a little but she shook her head at him and rocked her clit against his pelvis. “I love it,” she said, “Again.” He pressed her back down, sliding a hand to the small of her back to increase the pressure. She groaned and he felt her flutter around his cock, making him throb in response. “Perfect,” she whispered, kissing him passionately. “Watch,” she admonished. “We’re so close. We’re going to come any second. Together.” 

“Together,” he agreed fervently. He kept his eyes on hers, starting to go unfocused as her orgasm bore down on her. Her breath quickened and her heartbeat thundered through his chest as strongly as his own. She braced her forehead against his, staring at him from inches away. His fingers tightened as the pressure in his stomach started to break. 

“I love you, Oliver,” she said. He froze, his breath caught in his throat and his heart stuttering in his chest at the simple honesty in her voice. She kissed him, her own breath coming in desperate pants. Her eyes never left his, totally open, hiding nothing at all. All her passion for him, all her love laid bare in stark relief for him to see. Her thighs quaked against his hips and she drove herself down on him, grinding her clit against the base of his cock as her climax hit her. 

Her walls rippled around him and his own orgasm exploded through his body. Each pulse of release slammed through him. He fought to keep his eyes open, to let her _see_ what she did to him, how she blasted him apart and put him back together _better_. The power of it bowed his back, driving him deeper into her than he thought possible. They hung together in that incredible intimate connection for an impossibly long instant of time before the world came back into existence around them. 

He fell backwards onto the pillows, taking her with him and turning them both until she was underneath him so that he could roll his hips and ride it out for just a moment longer. She arched her back, lifting her hips to meet his thrust and shuddering all over again. 

He buried his face in her neck and tucked as much of her under him as he could, lifting just enough of his weight with his elbows to make sure she could breathe. His eyes were stinging and he fought back the inexplicable tears in his eyes. He never wanted to give up this closeness, never wanted to pull away. Never wanted to go back to those goddamned masks that were his entire fucking life, not after _this_. 

He started to shake. 

Felicity wriggled a little and got her arms free enough to wrap around his waist, holding him tightly. She was trembling too, and wetness trickling against his temple told him that she was just as moved as he was. 

“I see you, Oliver,” she whispered into his neck. “I’m with you. I take _you_ , the Oliver I know, the only one there is.” She paused for a long beat and then almost inaudibly said, “I love you.” 

“Felicity.” Her name was all he could get out through the tears choking his throat, but the squeeze she gave him told him it was all she needed. 

They lay like that until they both caught their breath and their composure. 

“I have considered this deeply,” Felicity said. “And that? Was amazing. Wonderful. Fantastic. Best. Ever.” She paused. “I want to do it again.” 

He laughed. “I’m yours,” he said simply, and she shivered a little. “Anytime. Anywhere. Anyhow. Do with me what you will.” He sucked a little mark onto her shoulder beside her neck. 

She set her mouth against his collarbone and returned the favour with a languid thoroughness that had his cock twitching against her thighs. “You like the idea of me marking you,” she observed with a grin. 

“Love it,” he replied peacefully. “Make me some more. Somewhere they’ll show.” 

It was her turn to moan and twist closer with arousal. “God, I really, really want to. But you can't be seen as Arrow with matching hickies.” 

He shrugged. “Arrow could invest in a turtleneck.” 

She laughed and pushed against his shoulder. He rolled them both onto their sides; loath to give up even an inch of skin contact. The way Felicity cuddled closer and slid her leg between his thighs signalled that she felt the same way. Idly she slipped her hand up his back until it was playing over his dragon. 

“Something fierce,” he told her, following her thoughts. 

“Hmmm,” she said sleepily. “So 'Fluffy' is out?" 

He growled. 

She giggled. "The Incredible Adventures of Oliver Arrow and his Fierce Dragon Fluffy." 

"I take it back. No naming things for you." 

She smirked against his chest. "I’ll think on it. Ooh! Maybe ‘Longbow’.” 

He grinned against her hair, shifting his arm to make a pillow for her. “I actually… don’t hate that.” 

“We need to clean up but I don’t want to move,” she complained, burying her nose against his clavicle. He shifted and she grabbed him tighter. “I don’t want you to move either,” she clarified. 

“I got that,” he grunted as her knee pressed a bit too tightly against his balls. 

“Sorry.” She sounded completely unrepentant. 

“Hmmm,” he returned suspiciously then reached over his head for his shirt. He rolled onto his back long enough to briskly wipe himself down and much more carefully cleaned Felicity’s thighs and groin before wadding it up and throwing it at the hamper in the corner. A moment later she was back in his arms, cuddled close enough for him to feel her pulse all along his body. “I love you,” he murmured. “More than anything. I would do anything for you. I promise I’ll never leave again.” 

“Don’t make me any those kind of promises, Oliver. Our lives are too… Too unusual for us to be certain of where any given day is going to take us.” He bit his lip and she soothed it free with her thumb then moved to caressing his cheekbone, tracing the lines of his face. “What I can promise _you_ though is that we can do it, together, as partners. No matter what comes, we can handle it. Sometimes easily, sometimes badly, but at least together it would be happily.” She smiled at him and cupped his face lovingly. 

He stroked her cheek with the backs of his fingers; staring at her in what he was pretty sure was open adoration. 

“Show me,” he said.


End file.
